


Green

by DragonSorceress22



Series: Prism Love [4]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Bloodshed, Established Relationship, I'll let you decide if it was a critical win or a critical fail, M/M, Shinichi got a crit on his Resist Drama check, attempted use of date-rape/similar drugs, crazy fans, unwanted physical contact (non-sexual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7816678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSorceress22/pseuds/DragonSorceress22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaito was finally well on his way to becoming a world-renowned magician and Shinichi was doing what he loved, but sometimes being famous came with less than pleasant side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [solomonara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/solomonara/pseuds/solomonara/works)!

_Green_

 

The setting was more extravagant than Shinichi had seen in a while. He didn’t always get to attend Kaito’s shows – work was not as scarce as a homicide detective might hope – but Kaito always saved a spot for him regardless. This time it was in the form of a reserved table in the back corner of the hotel ballroom, and Shinichi was happy to sit there, out of the way, and watch from a distance.

The partygoers weren’t on board with his plan though. Kaito had told him before that ever since the second time Shinichi had attended, a good portion of what Kaito alarmingly called Shinichi’s “fan club” showed up regularly as well. It was understandable, in Kaito’s opinion. His shows were the only predictable place Shinichi would be without all the police and dead bodies around. So really, Shinichi wasn’t all that surprised that some of his… fans (for lack of a better word) happened to be there that night at the private birthday party of a young heiress. Throughout the night they would come up to his table, making attempts at small talk or the occasional pass at him. He usually made an effort to be polite, but it was always clear that he wasn’t interested, and people usually gave up quickly. After all, everyone knew he was taken. By Kuroba Kaito. Everyone knew it, but everyone was just as familiar with how Kuroba Kaito behaved with his audience.

It had just reached the point in the show where Kaito would come down from the stage to select a volunteer when a young woman sat down at Shinichi’s table. His eyes flicked over her in the poor lighting.

 _Recent college graduate,_ he thought. _Early twenties. Patient, but bored at the moment. Single, but she’s here with a guy who knows the guest of honor. She probably doesn’t know anyone else here and was looking for somewhere to sit without having to awkwardly join a group._

Comfortable with his deductions, Shinichi returned his eyes to the show. He could just make out Kaito kneeling before the front-most center table where the heiress and her closest friends were sitting. As he watched, Kaito took her hand and placed a kiss on it, glancing up with a debonair smile. The girl flushed pink and shook her head emphatically to something Kaito had asked.

“Don’t you get jealous?” the woman at Shinichi’s table suddenly asked.

Shinichi indulged in a silent sigh. _I think I was too hopeful. That last deduction was off the mark._ “Why should I?” he answered mildly.

The woman turned in her chair to face him, leaning an elbow on the table, and Shinichi’s eyes flickered over her again. _No makeup. Large purse. Sensible shoes,_ his brain supplied. _But her hair is curled. She wanted to look good but… was also avoiding something?_ His eyebrows pulled down a little. _Her nails aren’t very long, but they’re recently manicured. Earlier today. And she’s anxious about something._ One hand was curled casually against her cheek, but the other was resting over the dark blue bag in her lap. She was keeping it close.

“I should think that would be obvious,” she answered him. Shinichi just shrugged, turning his eyes forward again. Kaito was wandering through the tables now, his eyes glittering with mischief as he sought out a volunteer.

“Kuroba-san!” someone called out. “Do that thing with the tablecloth!”

“Tablecloth?” Kaito replied, looking toward the voice. His eyes still focused on the distant partygoer, he reached toward a table off to the side and slightly behind him and, in a single move too quick to see, pulled the white cloth out from under the glasses and plates and purses and centerpiece. He held it up. “You mean this tablecloth? What am I supposed to do with it?”

There were some scattered laughs and some applause and Kaito started folding the cloth in halves. “Really, there’s not a whole lot you can do with a tablecloth,” he said, his tone one of mock admonishment. The large white square was growing smaller and smaller in his hands, halved and halved and halved again until it fit impossibly between his palms. “These things ought to be left to their own devices.” His hands came apart again to emphasize a shrug and the cloth was completely gone. “So now, let’s see…”

He turned to the nearest man, one seated at the now clothless table, and knelt by his chair, taking his hand and touching a kiss to it before looking up at the man’s watch. “Three,” he murmured as the man laughed and made a joke to his friend. “Two.” He winked up at him. “One!”

A snap like a firecracker went off and suddenly the corners of a tablecloth were fluttering down over the edges of the table, the white linen set perfectly back in place beneath all its accoutrements. This time there were gasps and some cheers from the audience, and a strong round of applause as Kaito stood and gave a small bow.

“Now then,” he said. “Where was I…?”

“You know,” the woman beside Shinichi said to him under the calls of hopeful volunteers. “The rumors are pretty devastating.” She shifted to face forward again in her chair and pulled it up closer to the table, and a little closer to Shinichi as well. Then she reached out and pulled his iced coffee over and ran her finger around the rim of the glass. Shinichi rolled his eyes.

“They’re just rumors,” he said.

“…Are you sure? How would you know?”

“I _am_ a pretty good detective, if you haven’t heard,” Shinichi said flatly. He was pretty sure by that point that he had been over their conversation from the moment it had started.

The woman didn’t seem to agree. “Don’t you think you might be a little too close to this one, Meitantei-san? You may be a great detective, but Kuroba-san is a master magician.” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Sure, you’re right about that,” Shinichi allowed. He leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand as he watched Kaito laugh. He was leading two men up onto the stage by their hands, one of them blushing. Shinichi couldn’t help but smile. The woman pulled his glass a little closer to herself, her lips twitching toward a scowl.

“You don’t have to take that from him, Kudou-san,” she muttered, the words almost lost under the scattered applause as Kaito transformed the blushing man’s shirt into a pair of doves that flew out from under his suit jacket. Now both of his volunteers were blushing and Shinichi unexpectedly found himself deducing that the two men actually had a mild and unexplored interest in each other. His smile broadened to a grin.

“He doesn’t own you, you know,” the woman insisted, watching him with increasing consternation. “He’s not as perfect as he makes us all believe–”

Shinichi snorted. “That’s certainly true,” he said.

“They why are you with him? Why are you settling for less?”

Shinichi finally glanced toward her again, looking bored. “You don’t love somebody because they’re perfect,” he told her. “Nobody’s–”

“But _you’re_ perfect, Kudou-san,” she said earnestly, clutching his drink in both hands and leaning in toward him.

Shinichi flinched, straightening up quickly to draw back from her. It still hit him every time. Whenever someone would call him perfect, his mind would immediately spiral back to those few, worst mistakes he’d made. His failures. The ones that had gotten people hurt or killed. He shook himself from it, refocusing on the problem at hand. _Dammit, I should have been handling this more carefully._ “Um, look, miss–”

“Yoshino,” she provided quickly. Her given name only.

“ _Miss_ ,” Shinichi persisted, actively avoiding the name. “I’m pretty damn far from perfect–”

“I understand that he makes you feel that way,” she said. “Oh! I’m sorry.” She looked down at the glass still clutched between her hands and pushed it back over to him. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Anyway,” she edged a little closer, reaching for his hand where it was resting on the table. He quickly drew it back, out of her reach, his eyes sharp on her every move. “I would never make you feel that way, Kudou-san,” she continued, undeterred. Her chair scooted just a little bit closer again so that she was right beside him, and she rested a hand on his leg instead. “So why not take me inste–”

Shinichi pushed his chair back, almost tripping over it in his hurry to stand. “I’m sorry, miss,” he said stiffly. “There’s somewhere else I need to be right now. Excuse me.” He didn’t look back to check that she didn’t follow him, he just made for the doors that let out into the hallway of the lavish hotel and used a key card to unlock a nearby meeting room that had been set aside for Kaito as he prepared for the show. He let out a sigh as the automatic lock clicked behind him, and leaned his back against the door.

 _It’ll probably be at least another hour and a half before the show ends,_ he thought, looking at his watch. He stood there for a good minute, wondering if he was being ridiculous for hiding. _Kaito will be upset if I miss the show…_ he eventually thought. But the idea of going back out where she was probably waiting was an unpleasant one. He checked his watch again. _…I’ll go back for the finale._

If it weren’t for the screaming that followed immediately after, Shinichi might have mistaken the two distant gunshots as part of the show, or even just his imagination. As it was, he threw himself at the door to the meeting room and out into the hallway. When he charged through the doors into the ballroom everyone was on their feet, and a dozen or so people pushed past him to run from the room in a panic. He ignored them and grabbed for the nearest person who seemed to be somewhat stunned, staring toward the stage. The man let out a small shout at the hand on his shoulder and whipped around, eyes wide and face pale.

“What’s going on?” Shinichi demanded. In his quick scan of the room he hadn’t seen anyone holding a gun, though he was sure now that that was the sound he’d heard just seconds ago.  

The man couldn’t seem to find words, but his head turned toward the stage again where everyone seemed to be looking and Shinichi gave up, running past him into the crowd to get to the front of the room.

There was a part of him that knew it before he made it there. Some subtle combination of sensory input pieced together in his subconscious had his stomach clenching with a cold wave of nausea even before he saw Kaito laid out, unmoving on the stage.

“Kai…” For just a moment he stalled, even his voice dying out before he forced himself forward, throwing himself onto the stage. “Kaito!”

There were doves everywhere, but they scattered to let him through, reorganizing themselves into a circle around them both and glaring out at the audience as Shinichi carefully checked Kaito for a pulse. His breath left him in something approaching a sob when he found one.

“Kaito?” he tried again.

There was no response, so he very carefully eased his fingers into Kaito’s hair. They met warm blood at the back of his skull and he had to cut off his own breathing to mute another snap of nausea. _It’s okay,_ he told himself firmly. _It’s gonna be okay._ He couldn’t let himself think otherwise.

The blood in Kaito’s hair wasn’t enough for a bullet wound. _More like a blunt impact,_ Shinichi thought. His eyes flickered to the blood across the stage that did not match up with the head injury and he followed it to Kaito’s upper arm where his dark suit glistened, wet around a small tear. He heard something like a growl and realized a moment later that he’d made the sound himself as he reached out to carefully rip the sleeve a little farther and examine the damage. A wave of relief passed over him. It was a bad graze, the bleeding heavy, but it could have been much worse.

As he carefully pulled off the ruined sleeve and tied it around the wound, he heard someone in the crowd say frantically, “See? I knew there’d be a murder eventually if that detective kept coming around!”

He glared back over his shoulder and snapped, “He’s not dead. Call an ambulance and the police.” When no one moved he shouted, “ _Now_!” and saw the heiress fumble a cell phone from her clutch purse. Calming somewhat, he called out, “No one leaves. You’re all witnesses.” _And one of you is a criminal._ “You’ll have to give statements when the police arrive.”

“Is… Is he okay?”

Shinichi looked round at the faint, shaky voice. He immediately identified the two young men standing at the edge of the stage as Kaito’s volunteers. Both were pale, hanging on to each other for support. Most likely in shock.

“You should sit down,” Shinichi said. Then he remembered their question. “He’ll be fine. Were you on stage when this happened?”

One of them nodded. The other stammered, “H-He–”

“Got you out of the way, right?” Shinichi finished for him. Waste of time, telling him what he already knew. There was no other way it could have happened. _If he’d had to react that quickly…_ he thought, looking back out over the audience. It was difficult to see details with the lights aimed at the stage and the rest of the room dramatically dimmed. _He didn’t see the gun. He only heard the shots go off. Anyone else… Anyone else but Kaitou KID would have died._ He’d never been so grateful for that perfect combination of honed reflexes, skill, and intelligence.

He’d never felt his heart race quite so violently at the thought of pinning a murderer down with the unrelenting fact of their guilt.

Shinichi took in a slow breath and let it out silently.

“Ojou-san,” he said, looking to the heiress who had finished her calls but was still clutching her phone as she stared up at the stage. She met his eyes with something like fear in her own. _Does she think she’s been found out? Or is she just afraid for Kaito?_ He called her closer with a deliberate tilt of his head and she edged right up to the stage. “Some of your guests ran out after the gunshots. Would you be able to tell me who all was here so we make sure the police can round them up?”

“There’s a formal guest list. And Baa-chan will know if anyone didn’t sign in.”

 _Excellent._ “You’ll help the police when they get here. Work with them – provide contact information, descriptions, anything they need, all right?” _And the hotel can make sure staff is accounted for._

She nodded a few times with some determination, hands tense around the phone clutched at her chest. Shinichi looked past her at the blur of shifting silhouettes filling the dim ballroom.

“I want everyone to move to the edges of the room,” he called out over the distressed chatter. “Don’t take anything with you that you weren’t already holding. Leave the scene as undisturbed as possible. And if you’re feeling like you might pass out, just sit against the wall. We’ll get this cleared up as quickly as possible. Until then, no one leaves.”

 

Shinichi turned away when the two paramedics knelt at Kaito’s head and feet to pick him up and transfer him to the stretcher. He’d seen too many bodies carted off from murder scenes to be able to watch that and not be sick.

When they’d first arrived and checked Kaito over, they’d told Shinichi that all his vitals were strong and stable, so when they took him away, out to the ambulance, Shinichi didn’t follow. Instead, he came down from the stage and dived right in with the forensics team as they canvassed the room.

The gun was found quickly. It was lying on the floor, partially wrapped in a dark piece of tarp. Pictures were taken. The gun was examined by several sets of sharp eyes and gloved hands, and then it was taken away to be checked for fingerprints. Already, everyone at the party was being tested for gunpowder residue.

It would almost certainly do no good.

“Megure-keibu,” Shinichi said in an undertone, walking up to him.

“Kudou-kun,” Megure answered, and there was an initial flicker of surprise that dulled almost immediately. “You didn’t go with the ambulance,” he said rather than asked.

Shinichi just shook his head. “Inspector, I think the gun was wrapped when it was fired to keep the powder from spreading – there are creases in the tarp where it was pushed through the trigger guard. It’s unlikely the culprit would have left fingerprints either.”

“Then we should search everyone for gloves–” Megure started but Shinichi was shaking his head again.

“Just having gloves with them is meaningless if there are other ways to do it. It could have been handled with a handkerchief or napkin as well.”

Almost everyone was carrying a handkerchief, and there were cloth napkins all over the tables, chairs, and floor.

“I see,” Megure agreed.

It was about that time that one of the forensic officers joined them, her expression cloudy. “There’s been some very strategic placement of tulle, photo backdrops, flash reflectors, and sign boards,” she said.

“…The security footage is useless,” Shinichi sighed.

“The security footage is useless,” the officer confirmed.

“All right, we’ll take that into consideration when we’re questioning everyone,” Megure said.

 

As it turned out, all of the obstructions were either incidental, or were shifted subtly during the party. Whoever was doing the shifting kept themselves in the existing blind spots and left no helpfully out-of-place fingerprints behind.

From the combined stories of the guests, they were able to theorize that the shooter had most likely been sitting in the back half of the room, but everyone seemed to agree that people came and went with some frequency – waiters, guests to and from the restroom, people taking phone calls… With everyone’s attention mostly on the stage, no one was quite sure where the shots had come from. Even the location of the gun was unhelpful. From the way the wrapping had been scuffed and undone, it was likely the shooter had dropped the weapon and kicked it into the chaos that had immediately followed the attack.

Feeling somewhat at a loss, Megure wandered toward the stage where Shinichi had planted himself in silent thought for the last several minutes.

“It’s one of the people sitting in these four seats,” Shinichi sighed as Megure approached. He was sitting on the edge of the platform, his chin propped in his hand with his elbow on his leg as he tapped a pen against the sketch of the scene resting on his lap.

“One of four?” Megure repeated, lighting up instantly. “You’re sure about that, Kudou-kun?”

“One of three,” Shinichi corrected with reluctance. “This seat was apparently empty.”

It was Honda Yoshino’s seat and, conveniently, _she_ was in clear view of one of the security cameras, standing by the doors at the time the shots had gone off. There had been nothing in her hands.

Shinichi’s eyes flickered over to the buzzing swarm of witnesses and easily picked out Yoshino, accidentally meeting her gaze. Because she was staring at him. He shivered a little and looked back to Megure. “And I’m not _completely_ sure,” he added. “That’s just what makes the most sense considering the angle of the shots and the cautious nature of the culprit.”

“It’s somewhere to start,” Megure said, sounding a bit like he would take what he could get at this point. “Who are they?”  

“Murakami Tadashi, Hasegawa Ryo, and Emori Daiju. I’d like to question them myself, if that’s okay.”

 

An officer sat in with Shinichi while he spoke to each of the three suspects in turn.

“I don’t know about you,” she said after the last of them had been dismissed from the room. “But I don’t think any of them had anything to say that we didn’t already know. Back to square one, right?”

Shinichi didn’t answer. He was still seated at the table in the conference room they had appropriated for the investigation and his expression had gone somewhat dark after the last suspect had left.

“Kudou… -kun?” the officer tried again.

“He had a motive, but he hid it,” Shinichi said.

“What? Who did?”

“Emori-san. But… I don’t understand why. He must have known I’d know about it. If he’s really the shooter… If he was careful enough to account for cameras, and fingerprints, and gun powder residue, surely he’d realize that hiding a motive that could easily come to light another way would put him under suspicion.”

“What’s the motive?” she asked.

“A few months ago he… propositioned Kaito. Kaito turned him down. According to Kaito, Emori-san… didn’t really take it well. But I never got any details.”

“So you think he tried to kill Kuroba-kun tonight?”

“It doesn’t really matter what I think,” Shinichi said, pushing his chair back and standing. “We need evidence.”

 

“Well?” Megure said when Shinichi came back into the ballroom. “Anything?”

Shinichi shook his head and tried not to notice how disappointed Megure looked. “I think we need to go about this a little differently,” he said. “There’s no evidence because the attack was carefully planned out in advance.” His eyes moved almost unconsciously to the stage, still streaked with Kaito’s blood. Megure shifted uncomfortably.

“Kudou-kun…”

“But,” Shinichi said firmly, cutting him off. “That doesn’t mean we can’t find it. The mistake _before_ the attack.”

“The mistake before…?”

“Yeah.” He was smiling a little now, his eyes a little brighter, and Megure started to hope again. “I _know_ … that’s where we’ll find it. There’s no such thing as a perfect crime.”

“Well, it sounds good to me, Kudou-kun, but _how_ are we going to find it?”

“First, we need to consider the timing. I don’t think it was a coincidence that the shooter waited until I was out of the room.”

“That’s right; you said you’d left before it happened.”

Shinichi nodded. “I was getting some… unwanted attention, so I stepped out.” He scanned through the guests again, and again met Yoshino’s eyes which were still locked on him from across the room. _Was it intentional?_ he thought, turning slightly to put his back to her. _I don’t think she’s faking this… obsession. If she is, she hasn’t slipped up once. Is it motive? If she drove me out of the room on purpose… It wasn’t guaranteed that I’d leave, but then… she also…_ His eyes moved to the table at the back, empty except for his abandoned drink and a standard centerpiece.

“Megure-keibu,” he started slowly. “Could you… have forensics test that iced coffee over there?”

“Eh?” Megure glanced over at the table. “What are we looking for?”

“I think it’s probably drugged, but I’d rather be sure.”

Megure’s jaw set, his large eyebrows pushing a little lower from under his hat. His hand gripped Shinichi’s shoulder. “Kudou-kun. Are you okay?”

Shinichi didn’t hold any doubt about the conclusion Megure had come to. He’d known Shinichi and Kaito long enough to put two and two together – the back table that clearly only one person had occupied. The iced coffee.

“I didn’t drink it,” he assured him. “But it might be related.”

“Got it,” Megure said, releasing Shinichi’s shoulder, all business again. “We’ll check it out.”

 

As Megure spoke with the forensics team, Shinichi wandered through the tables, his hand at his chin.

 _The gun had to be either on the shooter the whole time or hidden somewhere in the room or nearby,_ he thought. _The first seems more likely. If they’d had it taped to the bottom of a table, they’d risk discovery if someone dropped something, and there was no tape or adhesive found on the wrapping or any of the tables either._

Shinichi glanced over the partygoers again. _A wrapped gun is bulky. Everyone here is dressed formally. There’s no way it would go unnoticed in any of these expensive tailored suits. Long, full skirts could hide it._ His eyes picked across the heiress and her closest friends. He almost physically shook his head, tossing out the idea. _If they’d strapped it to a leg, there’d be some kind of strap to be found and everyone’s been searched. Something like that would have left a mark on the leg too, or else resulted in some kind of unexplained padding lying around somewhere. That wouldn’t have gone unreported._

His mind moved on. _Bags and purses,_ he thought. _Most of them are small clutches. Only a few would be large enough to hide the weapon. And the most suspicious of those…_ He stopped himself from looking again. He went up to the stage instead and, on a whim, climbed up onto the platform and looked out again over the room. The lights were all on now, and he could see the whole space clearly. He continued to avoid looking toward the guests.

 _Honda Yoshino,_ he thought. _Her bag is overly large for the occasion and it’s not full. There was extra space in it… Just enough for the wrapped gun._ He started pacing the width of the stage. _But it’s not evidence. Carrying a large, half empty bag isn’t a crime and she was standing by the door in clear view of the security cameras when the shots were fired. If they find that my drink_ was _drugged, we could probably get her for that, and it might mean she’s an accomplice… which only makes Emori look more suspicious. They came here together._

He let out a soft, frustrated sound. _This attack was a premeditated attempted murder. All this speculation isn’t enough. I need to expose the truth._

They were preparing to send everyone home when Shinichi finally grabbed onto the makings of a solid lead. The ballistics report had linked the gun to an unsolved crime from a few months earlier.

“Inspector!” Shinichi said, hurrying up to Megure. “There’s a chance we can pin the shooter down. Do you think I could consult on the armed robbery at Haido Imperial? It was the same gun.”

Megure hummed a little, looking thoughtful. “You’d have to talk to Division Two. It’s not my call.”

There was an odd twist to Shinichi’s lips – like a grimace trying to be a smile. “Nakamori-keibu doesn’t usually like me sticking my nose in, but… it’s for Kaito. He’d probably make an exception.”

“I think we’ve got all we’re going to get here tonight,” Megure said. “Why don’t you call it a night, Kudou-kun. I’m sure you want to get over to the hospital.”

“Yeah… I really do,” Shinichi admitted with a somewhat sheepish smile. “Before that, though, was there anything up with the coffee I asked you to check?”

Megure’s expression went a little dark. “That and more,” he said.

Confused, Shinichi followed but hung back a little as Megure pulled Yoshino aside while the rest of the guests were being ushered out and sent home.

“Miss, I’m afraid you’ll need to come to the station.”

“What?” Yoshino said. Behind her, Emori paused. “Why?”

“There were traces of a drug found in Kudou-kun’s drink in your purse… and on the tarp that was wrapped around the gun.”

Yoshino’s face seemed to lose a few shades of color. Shinichi’s heartbeat picked up even as his eyebrows drew together over a deep frown.

“That sounds like it could take a while to straighten out,” Emori said. “I’m going to go on ahead.” He hurried off, blending into the rest of the guests again even as Yoshino turned back with an affronted, “Wait, _what_?”

Megure stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Please come with us, Honda-san.”

She cast a long look back at Shinichi as she was led off. Shinichi didn’t notice, his hand at his chin again and his mind far off until his phone rang a moment later. The call was from an unknown number and he stepped to a quiet corner to answer it.

“This is Kudou,” he said.

“Shinichi.”

Shinichi’s breath left him abruptly. “Kaito.” Tension he hadn’t even noticed sloughed off of him all at once and his shoulders sagged. He leaned against the wall. “You’re awake,” he said, smiling.

“Brilliant deduction, Tantei-kun,” Kaito replied, surely smirking on the other end of the line. “How are things there?”

“…Could be better, but we’re not out of leads yet. This one will just take a little more time.”

“I’d be insulted with anything less. Anybody who’s going after me, with you in the same building, sure as hell better come prepared.”

“You could have been killed, Kaito. Maybe hold off on joking about it until we catch the guy.”

“Who’s joking? Anyway, there was a reason I called. I don’t exactly keep my wallet on me when I’m doing a show. Any chance you’d be able to send my insurance card and ID over?”

“I can bring them,” Shinichi said. “I was getting ready to head there anyway. I’ve got to talk to Nakamori-keibu about the next steps for this case, and I don’t think he’d be very receptive to helping me at…” He checked his watch. “Geez, four in the morning.” He rubbed his free hand over his face and let out a sigh.

“You all right to drive?” Kaito asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Love you.”

Shinichi could hear the smirk again. His own lips turned up in response. “Love you, too.”

 

Shinichi parked in the hospital lot and grabbed Kaito’s bag from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he got out of the car.

He didn’t even make it to the doors of the hospital.

As he was walking down the aisle of the parking lot, a man in a ski mask and gloves brandishing a kitchen knife darted out from between the cars. Shinichi barely had time to turn toward the man’s shout before he was on him, knife-first. The blade pushed into Shinichi’s stomach, the man charging forward while Shinichi stumbled back. Then Shinichi collided with the trunk of a car and the jarring halt of their momentum sank the knife deeper.

Shinichi let out a choked off gasp and the man suddenly let go and took a step back, eyes wide in his mask. Shinichi was barely keeping to his feet, one hand planted firmly on the trunk of the car, holding him up. The other was clutching at the knife as blood slowly seeped out around it. His legs felt shaky, but he was already getting control of his breathing again and he opened one eye to regard his attacker.

“…E-Emori-san,” he said. And then he realized that this was definitely one of those times that spouting deductions might well get him killed, because while the attacker _had_ been looking shaken and doubtful, he now looked a little crazed. He came at Shinichi again, reaching for the knife, and Shinichi managed to shift his weight more fully onto the car to get a kick in. He was only able to hit the man’s legs, but it was enough to make him stumble. Unfortunately, it also put Shinichi off balance enough that his hand slipped on the car’s trunk and he fell on his side, hitting the blacktop hard and jostling the knife inside him even as he tried to hold it still.

Clenching his teeth, Shinichi opened his eyes and saw the man coming for him again. He breathed out a curse and let go of the knife to clamp bloody fingers onto his watch, aiming up from the ground. The needle pricked into the man’s chest. He stumbled a little then fell forward, narrowly avoiding breaking his nose on the pavement by landing on Shinichi’s legs instead. Shinichi kicked out from under him, but he couldn’t manage much else.

Then headlights washed over the aisle and Shinichi’s heartbeat raged. The car was coming toward them and he had no idea if the driver would see–

The car stopped in the middle of the aisle and the driver’s door opened, a middle-aged woman getting out and hurrying forward into the light. Shinichi’s consciousness swam with relief.

“Oh… my–”

“Get help,” Shinichi gasped out, gesturing vaguely toward the hospital. “Please.”

The woman made a weak sound that Shinichi took as an affirmation as she ran past him toward the doors.

 

Kaito was sitting in the frontmost lobby of the hospital waiting for Shinichi when a woman rushed in, stumbling, her face somewhat ashen. A nurse went to her and caught her hands, supporting her.

“In the parking lot!” she said. “Someone’s hurt. There’s two men and b-blood…”

Kaito found himself on his feet. _Couldn’t be…_ he thought. But in almost the same moment his brain insisted, _It probably is,_ and he bolted through the doors, out into the parking lot. One of the aisles had a car sitting in the middle, the headlights on and the engine running with the driver-side door standing open. He rushed toward it and saw two figures laid out on the pavement. One of the silhouettes in the bright light seemed to have a very particular cowlick.

“Shit… _Shinichi_!” He dashed up the aisle and scrambled to his knees at Shinichi’s side, a hand gripping his shoulder. “Let me see,” he insisted, easing Shinichi onto his back and sucking in a breath through his teeth at the sight of the knife. His eyes snapped toward the man in the ski mask lying asleep on the pavement. “Tch.” Very deliberately looking back to Shinichi instead, he reached out and pushed Shinichi’s hair back from his face, meeting his eyes when they opened. “We are literally thirty feet from a hospital and you get _mugged_. How the hell can anybody be so simultaneously lucky and unlucky?”

“Nobody… would pick this spot for a mugging,” Shinichi coughed out.

 _Well-lit,_ Kaito thought. _Plenty of potential witnesses coming and going at all times of the day or night._

“It had to be Emori,” Shinichi continued.

Kaito’s eyes were drawn back to the man again. “Emori…?” He found the name in his memory quickly. “… _That_ Emori? From my show a few months ago?”

Shinichi’s head moved in a small nod. “Tried to shoot you. Knew I would find evidence. Tried to shut me up.”

“Yeah, well, no offense but I’d kind of like you to shut up right now, too.”

Shinichi smiled a little. Then his eyes shut and his head lolled to the side, the expression relaxing away.

“Shit…” Kaito muttered. He could already hear the wheels of two stretchers rattling across the blacktop toward them and he reluctantly moved out of the way. He watched a nurse and what looked like a paramedic collapse one of the stretchers beside Shinichi and load him onto it while another set of people did the same with Emori.

“I don’t think that guy is hurt,” Kaito told them as he picked up his bag that had been dropped nearby during the attack. “He’s just knocked out. You should be careful of him. He’s the one who did this.” His eyes were on the backs of the nurse and paramedic carefully carting Shinichi away and his hand closed into a fist, his jaw clenching tight.

The two minding Emori glanced at each other but nodded and started for the doors with him. Kaito followed a little slowly, but he heard them instruct the nearest staff member to call the police when they got inside. Shinichi was already gone somewhere out of sight and Kaito dropped his uninjured shoulder against the nearest wall, letting his bandaged head tip down with a silent sigh.

 

Shinichi woke to sunlight on white walls. There was an empty bed to his right, and an occupied one to his left – Kaito lying with his hands folded behind his head despite his injuries, staring up at the ceiling. He glanced over when he felt Shinichi’s eyes on him and smirked.

“Hey there,” he said.

“Hey,” Shinichi replied, or tried to. His voice was rough and he swallowed a little, working to re-wet his mouth. He had to abandon the notion of sitting up the moment he’d tried it. He could feel his pulse throbbing under tight bandages around his midsection, and one hand moved to cover that spot while the other found the button to raise the bed instead of his body.

Kaito got up and seated himself on the edge of the mattress, offering Shinichi a cup of water from the table between their beds. “…What the hell happened, Tantei-kun?” he asked quietly after Shinichi had taken a few grateful swallows.

“Some crazed fans,” Shinichi answered with a reassuring smile. “Nothing big.”

“Hm,” Kaito scoffed. “Yours or mine?”

“They’ve started working together. I think I’ve got it all figured out now. There’s Honda, a woman obsessed with me; and Emori, the guy obsessed with you. Honda tried to drug me so Emori could get away with shooting you.”

“If that was the _only_ reason to drug you, I’ll eat my hat.”

Shinichi recalled the close press of Yoshino’s thigh along his as her hand shifted over and he shivered deeply, physically turning away from the memory.

“I _thought_ I was handling it okay,” Shinichi muttered. “But…” He sighed and his shoulders slumped against the raised portion of the mattress. “I’m not very good at dealing with that sort of thing. And I just sort of got up and left when she wouldn’t stop touching me. Not the best move. I shouldn’t have left her alone. What if it had been poison instead of knockout drugs and I didn’t do anything? And then you got attacked because I wasn’t there–”

“Shinichi, listen to me,” Kaito said firmly. “Anything you could have done at that point would have only fueled her obsession, and you couldn’t have known something would happen if you left. You did the right thing, removing yourself from the situation. You don’t have an obligation to catch every bad guy yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re overprotective,” Shinichi sighed, but he was smiling a little again.

“I think I have good reason to be,” Kaito replied, brushing Shinichi’s bangs gently to the side. Shinichi caught his hand, and his eyes, and Kaito smirked, obligingly leaning in so Shinichi could kiss him without straining.

“I can’t help but notice,” Shinichi murmured against Kaito’s lips a moment later. “That you’re still here – I mean, _hospitalized_ here. Not visiting.”

Kaito sat back again and shrugged. “Before you turned up a bloody mess in the parking lot, the doctor was all set to send me home. But after _that_ , and the police, and the fact that we’re both minor celebrities, some strings were pulled to have me kept overnight for ‘observation’ for my head injury. Personally, I think the MPD in general is a bit overprotective of the both of us and they wanted us safe and in one spot while they wrapped things up with Emori and Honda.”

Shinichi’s smile was somehow apologetic. “Yeah, I guess. Still, I’m glad. Glad to know you’re okay.” Kaito’s hand was still in his and he squeezed it a little tighter.

“More okay than you,” Kaito muttered with a scowl.

“Hey, could you do me a favor? I’d really like to talk to Megure-keibu. Last I heard, we had evidence that the gun and the drug in my drink were in Honda’s possession, but we didn’t have any evidence on Emori.”

“You mean other than the fact that he was caught literally red-handed with your blood after _stabbing you in a parking lot_?” Kaito said far more pointedly than necessary.

“Yes, other than that.”

Kaito sighed.

“He tried to murder you,” Shinichi said flatly. “He is _not_ getting away with that.”

“One count of attempted murder isn’t enough for you?”

“That one wasn’t premeditated. Yours was.”

Kaito rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

It was a few days later that Shinichi solved the case of the Haido Imperial robbery, and just hours after that that he found hard evidence of the transaction between that criminal and Honda Yoshino when she purchased the gun. Bank withdrawals, various time stamps and security cameras, and some fingerprints had cornered her right into ratting out Emori Daiju as her accomplice – that he’d confessed to her his desire to see the “perfect Kuroba Kaito” broken apart in order to disillusion himself. Seeing her opportunity to “free” Shinichi without dirtying her own hands – tainting herself and making herself unworthy of him – she formed the plan and acquired the gun.

Shinichi, beyond being shaken by the motives, was disappointed. Honda’s testimony was good, but it wasn’t evidence, and Emori was still denying every claim.

Until Kaito, without Shinichi’s knowledge, asked to be allowed to speak with Emori.

 

“Emori-san,” Kaito said, taking the seat across the table from Emori in the small, carefully monitored room.

“K-Kuroba…-san…” He swallowed nervously. His eyes couldn’t seem to decide where to go, darting to Kaito’s face several times but always quickly moving away to the floor or table.

“We heard from Honda-san. About everything.”

“She’s lying,” Emori choked out. Kaito finally caught his eyes directly enough to hold his gaze steady.

“I don’t think she is. Because… I think it’s understandable… that you would want to free yourself from a painful feeling by removing the cause of it. No rational person would want to be in pain.”

Outside of the room, the officers listening in exchanged concerned looks.

“Do you know why I’m attracted to Shinichi, Emori-san?”

Emori flinched. “No,” he answered solidly.

“What I find appealing… It’s rationality,” Kaito explained, his voice level and emotionless. “And the courage to do what must be done. No one else I’ve met has demonstrated that so completely.” He shrugged, his posture suddenly easing, and he leaned back against his seat. “So it’s Shinichi.”

“B-But…” Emori stammered.

“Yes?”

“Of course there are other people like that! It doesn’t _have_ to be him, Kuroba-san. You just said – _I’m_ like that!”

“…I think what I said was that Honda-san’s story – that you tried to kill me to disillusion yourself – was believable.”

“W-Well…”

“ _Courage_ , Emori-san,” Kaito repeated.

“I did it!” Emori blurted. “Yoshino had the gun and she told me… She said this would prove it. That you’re _not_ perfect, so it wasn’t worth being upset over… that you rejected me.”

“And?” Kaito prompted. He was still leaning back, but his gaze was impossibly heated, locked on Emori’s.

“And so I…” His voice was trembling. “After Kudou was gone, she left her purse on her chair next to me. I took the gun and I…” His eyes were wide and distant, looking at Kaito but not seeing him here and now. Instead, he saw him on the distant stage teasing his volunteers until the moment of the air-shattering gunshot, and the second shot that had followed out of sheer surprise of just how loud a gun could be outside of the controlled environments and protection of his practice sessions.

“I _shot_ at you,” Emori said, breathless. “And you… _dodged it_.” He laughed then, and his eyes, still wide, went a little wet. “You can’t be broken. You’re just… _that_ incredible, Kuroba-san.”

“…Are you just saying all this because you want me to think of you as that… rational man who showed the courage to take matters into his own hands? How can I believe that? Only Shinichi–”

“No!” Emori demanded, and there was a sharp thud as he slammed his hands down on the table and stood, his chair skittering back. Kaito didn’t move.

Outside, two officers tensed, ready to burst into the room, but Megure ordered them to wait because of one raised, steady hand from the person beside him, and because this man was about to give them everything.

“I can prove it!” Emori said. “I pretended to go on vacation overseas so no one would find out I was learning to shoot. And then I wanted to practice with the actual gun I was gonna use, so I took it out into the mountains with the silencer Yoshino had and I shot at targets and I can tell you where I got rid of all that – the silencer and the paper targets, and the bullets are still in the trees–”

Kaito widened his own eyes, never looking away. “…You did all that–?” he asked.

Emori’s head dipped in a deep nod. “All for you. To prove you’re perfect. …It’s all buried way off the path about halfway up Nishi-Mikaboyama.”

“…Just one more question, then, Emori-san,” Kaito said softly, looking up at him. “You know a lot about me… Do you know that I am a _liar_?”

Emori blinked down at him.

“I don’t have much of a conscience about it, either,” he added as he stood and gently laid his hands on the table, mirroring Emori but standing straighter, his whole body set with imposing confidence. He never looked away from Emori’s eyes.

“I love Shinichi,” he said, and Emori flinched again like the words were a physical blow. “And it’s _not_ because he’s rational. He’s actually pretty _ir_ rational, because he has this unerring, _determined_ respect for all life except his own. He would do _anything_ to save a life. I’ve seen it. And I don’t understand it, not fully, but I respect and admire it.

“What you’ve done here – attempting to ease your own suffering by hurting others… There’s _nothing_ respectable about that.”

Emori looked as though he might shatter at the slightest touch, trembling and supporting himself on the table. Kaito turned from him and went to the door.

“Thanks for the confession,” he said. “I’m sure they’ve already called to have officers mobilized in Gunma to find your… _practice materials_ , too.” He turned back just slightly then, just enough for Emori to see his thoughtful expression. “You know, it’s not often I get to help Shinichi close a case.” _Not as myself, anyway._ He grinned. “Thanks for that, too.”

The door was opened for him and Kaito left without another glance.

 

“You are _insane_.” Shinichi shoved past an apologetic-looking Megure to grab Kaito by the front of his shirt the moment the door to the interrogation room was closed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

“Oops, I’m found out,” Kaito laughed, a little nervously. “You been here the whole time?”

“I came to talk to Megure-keibu about looking into the time between Honda’s purchase of the gun and the actual attack, but I guess I didn’t need to because you were busy manipulating the suspect into a full confession!”

“Okay. Manipulated. A bit. But what he said matches up with Honda’s story and we can check his flights, and the firing ranges, and the stuff he said he buried–”

“That’s not the point!” Shinichi shot back, and Megure and the two officers shifted uncomfortably, edging back from them a little.

“I…” Kaito stalled. Shinichi’s fist, still clenched around his shirt, was a heavy weight against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I should have talked to you about it first. I will, next time.”

“Tch.” Shinichi’s grip eased but then his arms were suddenly around Kaito, pressing them together, Shinichi’s head tucked close against Kaito’s as he clung to him. “…I don’t want there to be a ‘next time,’” he whispered, and Kaito’s face was getting warm because Megure and the two officers were still standing _right there_. He returned the embrace anyway.

“Shinichi,” he murmured after a few moments, and Shinichi drew back, looking embarrassed and a little petulant. Kaito touched a finger under Shinichi’s chin to still him and pressed their lips together before he could protest.

“K-Kaito–” Shinichi complained, his face completely red and his hands flat against Kaito’s chest now, pushing him away a little.

“If you don’t want it to happen again, maybe we need to start being a little more obvious that there’s no coming between us,” Kaito murmured.

For a long moment, Shinichi met Kaito’s eyes and the hallway was silent. Then Kaito said, “Wanna make out at my next show~?”

Shinichi shoved him back, hard. “You are an ass.” He stalked off down the hall and Kaito glanced back at the officers, his hand at the back of his head. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepish grin. Then he lowered his voice a little and added, “It’s no good when Shinichi starts worrying about stuff he can’t help, so…”

Megure just nodded, though his cheeks were a little pink.

“We’re going _home_ , Kaito,” Shinichi called from down the hall without turning back or pausing.

Kaito shrugged at the officers and tossed out a quick, cheery salute before hurrying off after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Next installment is called “omg i’m actually gonna post kaishin smut wth was i thinking i know nothing about boys” *coughs* ahem. Sorry. I meant “Red.” The next installment is called “Red.” Please look forward to it. *slinks off*


End file.
